


Dulce et Decorum est

by Chessurkitty987



Series: Greater than your self [1]
Category: Wonder Woman (2017)
Genre: Ambiguous Relationship, Character Death, Gen, Non-Chronological, eventual angst, evil friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-17
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2018-12-03 11:48:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 14,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11531589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chessurkitty987/pseuds/Chessurkitty987
Summary: A collection of the moments of humanity in an all-consuming war.





	1. Vulnerabilities

They each learn the other's vulnerabilities, whether they would like to or not.

Occasionally the mask plates require cleansing in order to avoid any significant contamination from her work, and this requires their removal. Erich enters her lab unannounced, as he is wont to do, and responds with a remarkable amount of tact to her unmasked face, so much that Isabel wonders if this is truly the first time he's witnessed it. She isn't particularly uncomfortable with the new situation, but avoids addressing it by continuing the decontamination; to anyone else it would be a signal to leave, and she suspects that were it from anyone else then Erich would take it as a grave offence. But between her quiet refusal to engage and his continuous presence there is an equilibrium. He understands the physical damage, with no need to ask about anything surrounding it, understands that what can be seen is in and of itself a vulnerability. 

One Isabel would prefer to keep hidden, to avoid questions on what surrounds it. She feels studied as she finishes, and although it's a feeling she's grown used to - particularly since the General took an interest in her work - the silence makes her feel aware of something. Not feelings of self-consciousness, she can hardly afford that, but something which makes her stand on edge as she moves to reapply her mask. Although they don't look at each other directly, Isabel can still see him watching her in the mirror. Perhaps, she muses to herself, the simple interest she observes in his body language is what's putting her so on edge; nobody has yet showed such an attitude. Her facing Erich feels like a challenge, for him to meet her unspoken standards.

He learns of her physical scarring, but never once asks after the stories behind it.

It takes months before Isabel unwillingly learns that the General too has his own, similar weaknesses. Several disastrous attacks at a weak point in the Allied defences across the French border have presumably had him pulled in front of High Command to explain his actions, because she can hear him cursing them before he even enters her lab. Although he manages to enter quietly, which she is grateful for, her concentration is still clouded by the anger seething out of him as he moves up and down the opposite side of her table and Isabel considers asking him to leave before thinking better of it; no good could come of offending him in such a state. So instead she temporarily abandons her work to search for any one of a number of bottles, given to her by soldiers in the hope that it might convince her to overlook them for her experiments, although given she cares little for either the alcohol or their lives it is always ultimately a fruitless endeavour. She can see Erich's curiosity almost overcome his anger as the bottle and a relatively unused glass are placed in front of him, but she chooses to ignore it in favour of returning to her equations. 

For a time there is relative quiet between them as the equilibrium they have adjusted to sets in, but then Isabel gradually becomes privy to just how much the General has lost to this war. It isn't a tale she's ever wished to hear, but she supposes that it may very well be her own fault due to her choice of solution to Erich's anger. A lost family member is hardly unusual, and a lost son deeply familiar; fighting has taken so many boys who 'could have been a great man', that now all she feels is the slightest sympathy as the man across from her reminisces and allows himself a moment to grieve again. But amongst the all too predictable moments, there are those which distract her momentarily because they are unexpected; she quickly realises that he watches her when these occur. 

"Isabel," and at the address she returns the look, "you remind me of him. Driven in what you do, the both of you, pushing for... so much more than what everyone else believes you can do. You make me as proud as he does." 

The admission makes her pause, but she eventually nods before returning to work, ignoring the slip in his language and not meeting his eyes again until he's called away from the lab. The next time they see each other, he avoids her gaze until he's certain that she treats him no differently.

She reluctantly learns of a story, but never once asks after a photograph, a face to put to the name.


	2. First meetings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is more rooted in history, because the film never touches on a backstory for Maru or Ludendorff. If you want to look up Tannenberg it is relatively interesting, but for this all you need to know is it was a German victory very early in the war which elevated Ludendorff and other coordinators to a heroic status within Germany.

Mere months before the war begins, Isabel attempts to settle in Paris to escape arrest for the suspected murder of five people. As she passes the time in hiding, that number climbs until a reward is put out for her capture and return and the French authorities collaborate in attempts to find her; any information given on the location of Dr. Maru, if proven correct, will result in some form of payment. War breaks out and someone gives away the address she's staying at. Her escape is only possible because she hears them ripping apart the small flat before she enters the building, and three days later she leaves France entirely. 

Travelling across Europe is a turbulent journey as everything devolves into a war larger than anyone alive has ever seen, and it's a while before she realises that she's being followed by the Serbians, by the Germans, and more sporadically by the French. The men they send are military, and word reaches her through rumour and eavesdropping that several military commands have been issued for her recruitment. Her scientific reputation, alongside her more recent criminal one, appears to have caught the eye of many people in powerful positions. After a near encounter she moves on again away from Central Europe and finds herself hunted, being pushed up towards the Eastern Front. Although she knows that her research would benefit from military funding and facilities, Isabel has no desire to participate in a situation where she will win none of the credit in a victory and all of the blame in a defeat, and pushes on ahead of her pursuers. They are smart enough to keep her moving, she admits that much; lacking sleep and any substantial form of food when travelling, she's on the point of delirium when the remaining locals of a small village take pity on her. 

She is a war victim, she claims, escaping recapture and likely death at the hands of her persecutors. It isn't truly a lie and for the first time in close to a month she allows herself to settle somewhere, although this close to the Front she can't allow herself the luxury of letting her guard down. Her resting place, she learns, is Tannenberg, a place with a legacy amongst the Germans. Many troops pass through on the way to encampments, and some return to see it more closely; Isabel encounters several soldiers this way, often in the evenings, although only one recognises her and she takes some measure of satisfaction in hearing him run directly into a wall as he attempts to chase after her.

A slightly more concerning encounter takes place only a few days later, as Isabel sits at the top of a ruined building and listens to several soldiers. The square she overlooks is a popular meeting place, where battle tactics and other information is discussed freely by troops at their own discretion and to her own amusement. The discussion is the same, concerning a replacement of leadership and the attitude of the new staff-officer, and she moves to rise, but only realises too late that her movements have been spotted. Across the square several officers are gathered around a car and one of them - from his fresh uniform, the new staff officer she assumes - stares directly at her in disbelief. Neither of them move at all and she almost feels sorry for him, having the lack of sufficient security around any operations exposed in such a blunt way, but then he goes to reach for something and Isabel bolts out of sight. 

She returns to the spot only after hearing that the battle has commenced a good distance from Tannenberg, finding nothing changed aside from a pack of cigarettes and a note, left where she had been standing: _'Hello Doctor.'_ She doesn't smoke since before Paris. Isabel crumples up the note, keeps the cigarettes and doesn't question herself too much about the decision. When a few Russian soldiers capture her she isn't searched and finds herself being exchanged almost immediately for several higher ranking Russian prisoners from the prior battle. The German military men who come to retrieve her are for the most part more dismissive than she would like, and when she throws the unused cigarette pack onto the table in front of them only the staff officer, who she recognises, notices. He pockets them as they leave, and Isabel later learns that he is the one with a particular interest in her work.


	3. Experimentation

There are limits to every situation which shouldn't be crossed if avoidable, rules which should never be broken, and though Isabel appreciates such logic her progress has ground to a halt operating under it. Months she has spent working on new formulas, wasted because the politicians in charge still refuse to allow her to test on anything more advanced than a rat, horrified at the suggestion that in order to make sure her creations to work on the enemy, they must be tested on humans first. Now those same men are complaining that no further progress has been made, threatening to cut off her few workers and supplies if she doesn't give them results soon, and even though she holds them in contempt, Isabel can't afford to lose as much as they are threatening to take from her. 

So she improvises. 

Of all the men who pass by the cramped room she's been given for a laboratory space, there are a select few who she knows look down on her for one reason or another: her face, her profession, or the simple fact that she is a woman in a man's war. She chooses one of them, and then barks orders and glares at a low ranking soldier, who's clearly terrified, until he goes to retrieve her target for her. When he finally arrives, she almost regrets her choice, barely suppressing a sneer at his inflated sense of self-importance and wondering to herself why exactly he thinks he's here; her reputation is after all in her work, not herself. Unfortunately for him Isabel is uncaring about his rank, his exploits, or even his name, and his ego proves to be his own undoing as he takes what she offers without question, then promptly collapses into an unconscious heap in the seat he's commandeered. It's an easy task to strap him to it, the chair itself strong enough to withstand a struggle, but she still takes the precaution of more sedatives, as the last thing she wants is for her hard work to be undone before it begins by something as simple as blind panic. It also proves to be an easy task to adapt his gas mask, attaching the hose to one of the containment boxes she uses to test small animals, which will in turn be connected to a toxin canister once she has created a gas.

She decides upon the formula she has tested the most, since it will be the one easiest to pass off to High Command as estimated to be successful, and has almost completed what she calculates to be the correct dosage when her subject regains consciousness. Isabel hears his breathing pick up through the mask and then slow back down again, and assumes his 'sleep' to be feigned when she turns to look at him. No matter. She doesn't require him to be awake to obtain her results; she simply needs to know if he survives the experiment. The system is set up and the gas begins to travel, drawn by the man's panicked breathing, and she's watching him start to spasm involuntarily when her door opens and through it walks the General. 

She's unmoving as he immediately takes in the scene presented to him, the setup she's created and the rank, possibly even the identity, of the man she's strapped to a chair to kill. The time between him entering the room and leaving it is less than ten seconds, and Isabel feels somewhere deep inside that this boundary she's crossed has brought on change which will never be undone, for better or worse. Her door closes and in the beat of shocked silence from outside she hears the death rattle of her subject, but her elation at her progress is undercut by anticipation of what might come down upon her. The silence ends abruptly as she listens to the General begin to scream orders at all of the men outside; some to begin exercises, some to patrol, some to check on supplies, or ammunition, but all of them are sent far away from her lab. To avoid a creeping sense of dread, Isabel begins to clear away from her successful endeavour. She hears the door open and then close but refuses to turn away from her task, feeling his gaze burn into the back of her head, and although she's never been afraid of any harm coming to her person she fears what his testimony against her could mean for her resources, for her status. 

"Do you know who he was, Doctor?" Isabel shakes her head, not trusting her voice in such a tense atmosphere, and hears him sigh before he continues.

"This is something I disagree with about this war. Too often you do not see the face of the enemy. You don't know his name, or his importance. It is all blind now. Perhaps that is why it has become so great."

"If you disagree with 'blind' weapons, then why am I put to work here?" 

Her question goes ignored; they both know she's here so that Germany can win the war which has taken the world. Continuing to clean and clear away, she ignores the dead man, unsure now of how to dispose of him and equally uncertain of how treating him as an object to discard would further impact the atmosphere. Finally she runs out of tasks to avoid facing the General, and leans back against a worktop, as a halfway point between standing, which she thinks she would find vulnerable, and sitting, which is a level of submission she refuses to lower herself to just yet. The silence stretches to a maddening point before he addresses her again, perhaps in an attempt to make her uncomfortable.

"Why did you find it necessary to do this?"

"Because it is necessary. The formulae - they require human testing before being used upon the enemy, and I could _not_ gain the results required from lab rats alone." Her explanation, however valid it may be, still catches in her throat slightly as she considers the consequences that could come of it. She watches him pause, and feels an almost imperceptible shift in the atmosphere. 

"In the future, you will know who they are." 

The silence is caused by her this time, as she takes in the implication of the words in surprise, which must show on her face, because the General repeats himself with clarity.

"I understand your need for human subjects, but they will at least not be faceless, nameless targets. You will know who they are, as they will undoubtedly know who you are. As for this experiment, the damage has unfortunately already been done and you have taken from me one of my more promising officers."

His tone is more reprimanding than angry and Isabel finds it within herself to be somewhat ashamed at her actions, although she also recalls the man's attitude towards her, which gives her some small measure of justification beyond pure scientific necessity.

"So what of the future?"

"We have many prisoners of war; you may choose from those as you please. If, you find it necessary or justified to pick from any of my men, whether able-bodied or incapacitated, you must first have my approval. Is that clear, Doctor?"

"Yes," and then the thought strikes her that she can take advantage of the situation she has been given, "but if I'm to continue this practice, I will need better facilities than this." Her gesture behind her to the dead man, which accompanies the request, appears to amuse the General.

"Yes, I see why that would also be needed. If you are willing to travel the distance, there is a laboratory at an Ottoman factory with a testing chamber, which I believe would be suitable. The workers there would also be able to create your gases in large quantities directly beside your development of them." 

Isabel's agreement is almost instantaneous, and in less than a week she finds herself conducting experiments in a much more suitable environment, far away, as it so happens, from the High Command and accompanying politicians. Her results satisfy their requirements without her ever revealing how they are obtained, and she begins to test new creations with increasing regularity, abandoning rats almost entirely. She thinks it may be coincidence that the General visits her when she tests a particularly vicious formula on one of his own soldiers, at his approval only, as requested. 

She knows it probably isn't such a coincidence that he remains in her laboratory to observe the results, and that her subject, although clearly terrified of her, only ever begs for forgiveness from him.


	4. Willpower

"I received information that you are wanted in Paris for several counts of suspected murder." The General cuts to the point as he enters her lab, presumably as short on sleep and patience as she is if Isabel's eyes are to be believed.

"Fifteen counts. I wished to discover if a pre-existing gas I tested on animals would have the same results in humans." She answers shortly, wishing he were gone so she could focus, and continues her work. Then to her irritation she hears him sit and feels him watching her for a minute in silence, as he chooses to do on occasion.

"Yes, fifteen. And the other one?"

Isabel's movements don't slow, but the formula she's working through alters with his question. Nobody knows about that or at least nobody has realised what had happened, which was what she had intended. He must know, she reasons, the full extent of what he's asking, otherwise it wouldn't have been so... offhand. Unimportant.

That knowledge makes her blood feel like acid, building as her anger does and for the first time she can't find it within herself to overlook the General testing her limits. For the first and only time she wants him to die, choking on one of the formulas he pushed her to create, and the realisation that he knows this as well brings her a cold satisfaction as she finishes her work: a clear and colourless liquid, twice as potent as anything she's been able to create in gas form. The glass she pours it in to makes a sharp sound as it's placed on metal and pushed slightly in Erich's direction, and Isabel has to fight the instinct to snarl at his appearance, which is commanding even when looking up at her, as though everything belongs to him - and here at least it does, because without his authority she would have none of this, no lab, no subjects, no funding; and in this moment she hates him for it. They face each other for a moment, Isabel gripping the back of a chair to occupy her hands and stop them from shaking.

"For you. Drink." Her words are clipped, keeping any emotion out of her voice but she thinks that that in itself may give her away if nothing else already has, if he hasn't known from the start what her reaction would be. There's a pause between them as he refuses to simply trust her and do as she instructs.

"Is it poison?" 

"No." _Yes._ She lies to him directly and while this isn't the first time it doesn't matter, because this is the first time her lie could cause him harm. 

A second pause falls between them as he moves from looking at her to the glass between them, letting out a sound she's come to recognise as consideration. Before she can dare to hope, he reaches into his coat and she hears something unbuckle before he shows his hand. Metal is set down against metal, grating more than the glass as it's slid across, and Isabel feels outraged as Erich settles back into his seat, leaving his gun on the table. _How dare he challenge me._ Yet she would expect nothing less from him, but that does nothing to change her attitude.

"Is it loaded?" 

"No." His answer could be a lie, as hers was. But it could also be the truth, and looking at him she realises that she has no way of telling which it is. Neither of them have any wish to die, she knows this, but they can't always be part of something greater than themselves. This current distrust is entirely personal, which only makes her wish for victory over him more, to prove that the General can be brought low by her. 

"Who was the sixteenth victim?" Still he is testing her, and she grimaces at the implication that her will is somehow lesser than his. 

"I don't know. I didn't care." An attempt to be uncaring comes out as terse and angry; she keeps her gaze fixed on his and refuses to say anything more, cursing everything he is in silence and taking her satisfaction from the possibility of his death.

"Who was she to you?" Erich has shifted forward to ask, allowing him to see her reactions more closely, and Isabel's satisfaction vanishes. She feels pain at the memories the question dredges up from her mind and hatred towards him for making her relive them, but most of all she feels bitterness. He knows exactly what he asks of her and always has, starting from a point of advantage. Her bitterness sinks deeper as she looks away, hiding her reactions from him and conceding the challenge. She doesn't look up as he stands, and hears him close the door as he leaves, giving her privacy. Isabel breaks, screaming out of frustration, out of anger as she hurls the glass across the room and watches it shatter against the edge of the door. Her hand burns and she winces as the small spill leaves a track of blistering skin, but she doesn't touch it, her attention caught by something else. Erich's gun is still on the table, and the need to know grips her before she can think to do anything else. Her injury goes ignored as she checks the chamber.

Unloaded. 

She doesn't know if she's laughing or hyperventilating; perhaps it's both, or perhaps she's hysterical. Regardless, she realises that she's shaking and collapses into the nearby chair, the useless gun clattering to the floor. It takes her another minute to realise she's crying, but Isabel makes no effort to contain it. She has, after all, been given a measure of privacy.


	5. Contact

Isabel only notices how deep her nails have sunk into her own palm when blood drips onto the floor of the car. She grimaces as she unfolds her hand to assess the damage. Four stinging and bloody crescents, all caused by the same man, and she nearly clenches her fist again involuntarily as her anger surges. Weeks of production, months of experiments gone in a single blast. And her book, more than four years of research, everything she had created, taken by a spy who walked right into the centre of her operations and right back out again with no consequence. She knows hatred very well, but Isabel wants this one, whoever he is, to suffer more than anyone else in this war ever has. 

The General notices the blood before her injury but its slightness doesn't prevent him from leading her directly towards what she can only assume is a medical building as soon as they leave the car. Looking around she sees soldiers, running, shouting and attempting to approach their leader; orders are asked for and Erich snarls at them impatiently before pushing them aside, moving her indoors and out of their sight. _Shielding my humanity from them,_ she muses to herself. One boy attempts to follow them inside and is rounded on instantly as she continues through another door into what is recognisably an examination room. The wait before Erich finally enters is silent, leading her to wonder, in the part of her mind not occupied with vengeance, if the boy survived the consequences of his actions or if she will pass a lifeless heap upon her exit. 

He collects what equipment is needed with sharp precision, which would betray his anger if she couldn't already feel him simmering from across the table. Her injured hand is held flat against the table as he wipes away the blood and Isabel lets thoughts of what she will do to the spy take root in her mind and fester there. Perhaps, after Erich has finished extracting what the spy knows, she can convince him to pass the man over for her experiments, or even better find out what he knows about her more recent creations and then test them on him until they are perfected. The mere idea of it brings her a deep satisfaction, and she looks up quickly, desperate.

"When will you find him?" 

"In a few days, if at all. He has gone out into open waters." The response is too short, too inconclusive for her; she wants the man to suffer for what he's done, not die in the middle of the ocean because of an empty fuel tank. She allows her anger and impatience to escape her, uninjured hand moving to lash out at medical equipment set out on the table, intending to break those if she can't break the spy. 

Erich grabs her by the wrist before she can reach anything and Isabel remembers that he is not a General for no reason, that he still possesses the raw strength of a soldier. 

She briefly attempts to fight it anyway, to complete her original goal, but gives up struggling so much when his grip tightens painfully in warning. Looking back to him she sees her anger is still matched and realises that in this moment if she continues, he will have no issue with further damaging her wrist to get her to stop. So she submits instead, ducking her head to avoid scrutiny and forcing her anger back inside for the time being, allowing herself some relief when the grip on her wrist loosens enough for her to rest her elbow on the table. Then as Erich's focus shifts back to treating her injured hand she glances up at him, irritated and confused as to why he hasn't let go entirely; she sees no reason why she should continue to be caught. The slight stings of disinfectant go ignored as her irritation ebbs and her confusion grows, stealing ever longer glances as she settles her hand into a loose fist. She is unused to touching of any kind and finds herself mocking her own twisted priorities at the thought, since she's less occupied with the direct contact her injury requires than she is with this other form of contact, masked as it is by her thick sleeve and the leather of his gloves. Perhaps it's the nature of the contact, because while addressing the injury is technically necessary, this most definitely isn't by either of their standards. 

"Lift, please." Her attention is drawn back to him directly at his request, and she lifts her hand, still held flat so that it can be wrapped. 

If she were working in another field it would have been an unnecessary treatment, but in her world of toxins nothing can be afforded entry into the blood if avoidable. The process would go faster with two hands and she realises that she can feel his grip shifting in small ways as he completes it, which provides her with a distraction but no answers for her persisting confusion as she once again moves her attention away from the injury. She takes longer than she would like to realise that she's being watched directly and decides, against her better judgement, not to hide her confusion as she returns the gaze, which is held for longer than she can express. But it isn't forthcoming with an answer she can understand and Erich breaks it to clear away the medical equipment, releasing her wrist in the process. Isabel rubs it quickly to assess how sore it will become and checks over the dressings on her other hand, and by the time the General has turned to face her again she is as invulnerable as usual.


	6. Non-toxic

Although her reputation, and facilities rely on a steady production of new toxins, Isabel prefers to focus equally on less dangerous experiments which are ignored entirely by High Command, and occasionally requested on an individual basis. She complies more often than not, because the soldiers who ask take it upon themselves to give some form of payment; usually she asks that they record the effects and send it on to her, or has them fetch a chemical she's grown short of. There are only a few situations she can recall where she has been demanded to produce her non-toxic work, and to her complete lack of surprise the most notable one involves the General. 

She's adjusted to the noise outside her workspace, taking no notice when the disturbances become louder than usual, but something which catches her notice quickly is the knocking on her door. The workers don't bother her at all, the supervising guards prefer not to enter her laboratory, and Erich, for all his graces, still doesn't wait for permission before entering, so she finds herself forced to consider who it could be. Then suddenly she has no need to, as a terrified soldier's pushed through her door and she receives instructions to give him something which will prevent his frequent desertion. Isabel nearly ignores them completely, irritated that they would assume she would have something ready upon their demand - although she thinks she may well have the answer to their problem, she dislikes the lack of respect - until she spies the General watching the factory workers. This soldier's desertion may have caused some serious problems if he warrants such company, but when she asks him about it, first in German and then in several other languages, he refuses to answer. So wondering if cowardice is a greater force than bravery, and whether either will be able to withstand what she creates, Isabel begins to work on a solution. The formula she works from is built from several others, some her own and others not, but the end result is greater than any of the individual parts. She passes it to the soldier and instructs him to drink, then, when he doesn't, threatens to force him. Noting that he moves faster to comply when under threat, she waits for a few minutes before asking his guard to go and retrieve the General. Appearing in her doorway, Erich looks to be more troubled than she is, and she suspects that he's been called away from an inspection of some kind, looking at the state of his clothes. But she ignores that, and clearing away, in favour of studying how the soldier will be affected.

"Give him an order. Something simple." 

"Step forwards." 

Isabel watches with a growing delight as the soldier, growing steadily more terrified at the lack of control, takes several steps back. She feels Erich looking at her in confusion and probably no small amount of irritation, but she ignores it in favour of testing the effects further.

"Stand up, sit down, turn left and then turn right." The sequence of commands is performed in opposite before her, and she chooses not to notice the man's quickly deteriorating composure, "Don't go with the guards."

The speed at which the soldier leaves her laboratory is a feat in itself, leaving the General still in the doorway, looking at her in what she can only describe as bewilderment. It isn't an expression that suits him, but she doesn't wish to explain her creation in detail when they could both be doing other things and begins to clear away.

"What was that?"

"You wanted me to cure his desertion; now he won't run away even if you tell him to."

She looks over at him, almost daring him to ask for a deeper explanation than what she's provided, but her challenge goes ignored as he leaves. It isn't until several days later that she's visited again and hears anything more about her experiment, his unannounced arrival entirely expected and relatively unobtrusive. The invitation he extends to her however, makes her pause.

"Am I expected to attend this gala?"

"Not at all, but as you are the reason for it, I thought it would be impolite not to ask."

"And how am _I_ a reason for this celebration?" 

"Ah, that is due to the bravery of the young man who was brought to you several days ago."

"What happened?" Her curiosity is clear in her voice; it's rare that her non-toxic work is battle tested, and Isabel wonders what the results were.

"An unexpected victory - our men were ordered into a full retreat, and he chose instead to run across no man's land, carrying grenades into oncoming tanks. They were unable to target him fast enough, and his sacrifice enabled the others to take the enemy line."

"How unfortunate for him. So not bravery then, as much as chemicals."

"Yes, but you can hardly expect them to throw a gala in celebration of chemistry when bravery is more attractive to the attendants."

"I suppose so."

Her tone is dry as she makes a mental note that use of this compound will not be widespread; its unpredictable results will cost too many men, something that can't be afforded. She will be given no credit for her work here, and no gains aside from a more advanced knowledge of that compound. As such, there is no real reason to attend the gala aside from unnerving the guests with her appearance and accompanying reputation. She accepts the invitation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Although the science isn't grounded in reality at all, I thought I'd write it anyway in reference to Dr Poison's first appearance ever!


	7. Victory

It's only been days since the incident, and she finds herself surprised when the General is present in her new makeshift laboratory before she even enters. She can only guess that he may have been overlooking the soldiers who brought in her new equipment, and to her distaste left it on the floor for her to sort herself. Ignoring him in favour of the relatively strenuous task before her, she doesn't notice his attitude for some time; he is she notes, unusually contemplative given the events which occurred only a few days before, and what she assumes from his absence was the High Command choosing to blame him for all of them. Upon further inspection she decides that the contemplation is more of a quiet fury at everything that has happened, something she can find herself sympathising with. As of late, the demands put upon her have increased and yet her abilities have been restricted by those in power, which may the result of some infighting. Although, this close to surrender she would be surprised if it was anything significant; more likely they are trying to trap her to use as a scapegoat, alongside him as General.

"You are here because you have an idea?" Her blunt assumption appears to surprise him, but then he nods in agreement, still focused in on himself. "What is it then?"

"I think... That there is still a path to victory, but we would need to act quickly."

"I was unaware that we were doing anything." 

Catching his reflection, Isabel notes that he at least has the humility to look slightly ashamed at the implicit accusation, but she finds that she can't be irritated with him for including her in his plan without her knowledge; as important as he may be, she has become an integral part of the war effort on all fronts. Still she reflects, setting an unopened box on a workbench, that Erich's concept of what an acceptable cost for victory is has become warped, and that what his plan entails could result in some painful consequences for both of them. 

"What would this path require?" Suddenly the humility dissipates, and she looks over quickly to confirm to him that she's listening.

"The deaths of the High Command before the surrender. You would need to increase the speed of your progress, the armistice will be signed in less than a week." 

Even with the satisfaction of knowing the enemies within their own ranks would suffer, she's surprised at the request to say the least. The sound that escapes her would be a laugh if her voice were undamaged, and she turns to look at him with disbelief, gesturing around her at the half-formed workspace.

"And how should I do that? My research is gone, my supplies are limited, I have no progress to build upon any more. My abilities can only be pushed so far for so long."

"I believe that-" The familiar phrase causes her contempt at the situation she's been forced in to to grow, and she barely stops herself from sneering as she cuts him off.

"What has belief done for anyone in this war? Your belief may be as strong as any army, but it will not provide the materials that I require to do what you ask." In the momentary pause which follows, Isabel watches as the General grows angry, then suppresses it as he realises the truth in her words. She turns back to her packed boxes before he responds, unwilling to observe much more of his humanity in such a short time.

"I have seen what you are capable of with so little before. I know that you can achieve greatness, and do what I ask of you. But, you have been tested as of late, and recovery is in order as well." His concession leaves her feeling hollow, her frustration and contempt now gone, and she sighs.

"I can attempt to make progress with what I have, work with no guarantee of success in time for your plan, or I can rest. I cannot do both, Erich." Isabel hates how tired, how human she sounds, but pushed to her limits it's impossible to sound otherwise. She refuses to look at his response, too tired to face him as anything but herself. 

"Do what is necessary for victory." 

Even if his words aren't orders, he sounds like a General, and she still refuses to face the room until he's gone. Then she looks around the poor excuse for a laboratory and forces herself to come to terms with the fact that to him, she may slowly be becoming an acceptable cost for victory, a thought so despised that she finds herself determined to disprove it. Success will be together, or not at all.


	8. Accidents

There's never a full explanation for what happens, but in spite of the countless theories she hears, all of them excessive and increasingly unhinged, Isabel remains unbothered by the cause of the incident. Occam's razor: it's an accident.

The day is a slow one, observing the large scale production of several gases, some toxic and others not because despite the disinterest of the Germans, the Ottoman military has a growing interest in her less deadly creations, which she feels somewhat obliged to sate. She is after all using their facilities, and workers. These same workers, she soon discovers, are not as good at their jobs as she would hope. Panic ensues where she's observing when several of them appear to suspect a gas leak, and before she or the guards can do anything, they are flooding out of the factory en masse to escape it; despite following, she unfortunately finds her usual scepticism to be her own undoing, and isn't close enough to the exit when something in another section of the factory ignites. Then, the world disappears as something catches the back of her head.

The first thing she notices is the sensation of being carried, presumably on a stretcher, and her indignation at the idea has her moving, trying to sit up. Her head aches, and her vision blurs for a moment before coming in to focus, then she's off the stretcher entirely, falling onto the floor in shock. The soldiers who look down at her are disfigured with chemical burns, which she recognises, as much as she recognises the men, from her testing chamber, soldiers who she knows should be dead, having watched them die. Despite knowing that it's an impossibility, she finds herself terrified, scrambling back as they start to move towards her and resisting the strong urge to scream as several others begin to take notice, all of them similarly disfigured. There's a woman as well, a nurse whose face changes in front of her to one which is all too familiar, with damage conjured up from her nightmares because she could never bear to see the result for herself. When she talks, all that Isabel hears is begging, screaming, and each hurts more than the last. She runs then, or attempts to, screaming herself when she's caught soon after.

They wrestle her in to a featureless room and leave her, and the time she's alone could be hours, entire days, or perhaps just a matter of minutes, she has no way of telling. The sounds of her victims come clawing out of the walls, and Isabel can't decide if she's laughing at them, or screaming along with them, because all she feels is a complete lack of control. She must cause some noise, because she finds countless scarred people surrounding her and not all of them can be real, or even ones she remembers, but she's certain that all of them are dead, and to be faced with such a thing is terrifying. Then she's restrained, and finds herself fully prepared to attack whichever one is holding her down until she looks and sees the General; because he isn't dead, like the others, she hasn't killed him and so he must be real. In her confusion, she registers that he's concerned, and talking to her, but the screaming still coming from the walls makes whatever he says inaudible. He's pulled away, and she panics, not wanting to lose her one point of contact with reality. Then her world disappears for the second time.

When she wakes she finds that everything is hard to focus on, and her attempts to recall what happened are fruitless. Looking around the unfamiliar room takes less time and effort than she expects, although it takes significantly longer for her to notice the General is still nearby, watching her bewildered reactions with some amusement. She glares at his expression, adjusting to her new state and finding some satisfaction when he drops his smile. In spite of his attitude, they both know she finds the vulnerability uncomfortable, and the unspoken question of why she's in this state is answered quickly.

"Sedation, for your own safety. You were experiencing things which caused you distress." She frowns at her lack of memory and considers that the mass panic which set everything in motion may not have been as unfounded as she had previously thought. 

"If there was a leak, it will most likely have been the hallucinogen I was producing for the Ottomans. None of its after effects will be apparent, if the sedation proves strong enough." She finds her voice rougher than usual, but again can't recall why it would be so, and after a moment decides it must be the sedatives.

"It should be. Will the factory still be hazardous?"

"By now, most likely not, no. Any remaining gases will have dissipated. Did you find the cause?" 

"No. It seems the workers are more loyal to each other than the war effort." 

Despite her situation, Isabel can't be too judgemental of the factory workers for their decision, as if given the choice she would most likely do the same. Even now, she reflects that she can't claim to be more loyal to the war than she is to herself. 

"Well, that can't be helped. Not everyone is like you - has production begun again?" She expects some anger from her companion, and when hesitation is the only thing she senses she looks up at him sharply. " _Why_ has production not continued?"

"They are dead."

"All of them?" He nods, and she feels her irritation growing at the rash actions. It will delay her production by several days while new workers are found, something which can't be afforded, but since they both know this she redirects the focus of her emotions slightly.

"You could have left some, I'm growing short on subjects. They are no use to me dead." The pause which follows is filled with her anger at his lack of consideration, and what she assumes is him thinking on his actions.

"Does war create monsters, or do monsters create war?" The seemingly unconnected question catches her by surprise, so much so that she takes some time to consider the answer.

"Neither. Men create war, to excuse their monstrous actions." 

"Then am I- are _we_ monsters?" Looking up, they watch each other and she sees that Erich is afraid of contemplating what he may be becoming in this war: a man without self control, instantly willing to destroy hundreds for the grievous actions of a few. There's something else she can't identify as well, a concern with an unknown source, but she ignores it in favour of what she can resolve. Isabel has seen him in such a state before, and knows she must be comforting now if they're to continue with their plans later. Weakness can't be afforded when their goals are so close. So she reaches out to him, the contact serving as both a human connection, and a point of focus, one which she sees gives him pause.

"This war hasn't changed us that way. We are not monsters because we understand that what we do is wrong - we may not care, but we understand it to be true. Monsters... They have no understanding of this. They think that everything they do can only be good."

"How then, does this war make what we do any better?"

"It doesn't. But our understanding makes us better than the monsters who seek to control us." With that she sees his belief beginning to return, as it always has; he works best for the both of them when clear divisions are made between himself, and those he dislikes. Isabel smiles as best she can, her own invulnerability beginning to return as well.

"In a few days, when this problem has been resolved, you must come and see me. There is a line of progress which I think you will find very promising."


	9. Strength

The sounds of breaking glass bring her out of the distracted state she finds herself in, and looking up she's greeted with the sight of several pieces of broken lab equipment, a reminder that the General is still adjusting to the influence of her latest gas. She leaves the formula on the table, separated from the pile of rejections - it is after all precious, if it works as she hopes it will - and pulls him away from the equipment and further damage, manoeuvring him into a chair which he all but collapses in to. Taking a few moments to see if anything is salvageable, she allows him that time to find some composure before beginning to observe the effects of her drug, and it isn't long before he tries to move away from her scrutiny.

"Are you uncomfortable?" For a moment she wonders if a side effect is an inability to speak, as she hasn't heard a thing from him since administering the gas, but her suspicions are proven unfounded.

"Yes." The reply is uncharacteristically quiet, and when she pauses he picks up on her desire for a further explanation. "Because, when you wear that expression, I know what follows. It is discomfort through association, and I have no desire to become another of your experiments."

"If you were an experiment, I would have killed you the moment you damaged my equipment. You can put yourself at ease, knowing you aren't like them."

"I feel as powerless as they were." Despite the progress she's just made, Isabel still sneers at the assumption, looking down at him with enough distaste that he won't look at her directly.

"You, are not powerless _General_. Even without this gas, you have the strength to do as you please. What you feel isn't a lack of power, simply an adjustment to a higher state."

Her words are punctuated with movement as she retrieves more equipment, and chemicals for her new formula, the one she hopes will be the answer to their problems. For a while, there's silence as she goes about the preparations and he adjusts - she assumes - to the effects he's feeling. 

"You have power as well. It is simply a different kind."

"I only have it for as long as you are with me." The admittance is something she's grown to largely accept; even if it does vex her occasionally, there are worse people to rely on than him.

"Ah, but you have power over that as well." Her surprise, even with her back to him, must be visible because Erich laughs, and when she turns to face him he's smiling. "If I ever had the slightest notion of turning on you, you could easily look to your work for a way to stop me, or kill me. You have done so when pushed too far, after all."

"I wasn't sure you knew then." Even in the midst of her surprise, the memory of the confrontation is a sharp and unpleasant reminder of where she stands, and Isabel watches his smile take on a vicious edge as he looks at her, a reminder that he is by normal standards a very intelligent man.

"My dear, if I hadn't known that you were trying to choke me with the result of my own ambitions, I would have never taken the risk in the first place."

She almost smiles at the slight paranoia he seems to have about her, which she freely admits to herself is very well founded; after all, if there is no victory, she will do anything she can to distance herself from any military force. After more silence, she finds herself with no more preparation to complete, and moves back to helping Erich recover. He appears to be more stable, but she's unwilling to pass over the glass she holds until she's certain he comprehends his own strength once again.

"I tested the gas on a soldier before I gave it to you. I think his name was Arden." He shrugs at the name but appears interested in what she has to say, so she continues after a pause. "He reacted badly to it, convulsions, some bleeding, and eventually death. That was last night."

"You gave me something which might have killed me?" In spite of their previous conversation she sees fear cross his face briefly, and just manages to hold back a wave of dark amusement at his concern that he's been so easily beaten.

"No, of course not. It was tailored for you, I simply wished to see what would happen if I gave it to a different subject."

"How did you tailor something like this to a specific person?" 

"Would you understand if I explained it to you?" Passing over the glass to him, she sits opposite to observe and finds the same satisfaction he expresses when it doesn't shatter in his hand. 

"Not at all, but I would like to hear your process regardless."

"After what happened, surely High Command have given you duties? You will be pulled up if they find you spending more time here than with the men you command."

"The men I command are replaceable, and soon we will no longer have to concern ourselves with the High Command. Are you trying to get rid of me, Doctor?" The accusation isn't made in any seriousness, and he clearly finds some amusement in the look he receives.

"I've grown tired of explaining my processes to those who don't care."

"This process of yours is in my blood Isabel, I care very much about it. My lack of understanding is of no consequence." 

She sighs in what she would like to think is protest but is grateful to find that he is, as always, an attentive listener.


	10. Dancing

"Do you dance?" 

"Can what Germans do be called dancing?" 

Isabel's tone is wry, a fact that she hopes will disguise her unwillingness to be here. She knows that the General is about as fond of the people in attendance as she is, but he is required to make an appearance whereas she has been forced to do so, as reflected in her refusal to interact with anyone; if she must make an appearance, then that is _all_ she will do. But she still doesn't want him to know how unhappy she is, not to any full extent, because she's witnessed how boundless his exploitative nature can be. 

"You will learn to dance." 

The statement causes her to reflexively roll her eyes before she looks up at him with irate bemusement, expecting to find him in the vaguely interested mood that he takes on for formal occasions, and finding herself proven wrong. He appears as carefully neutral as she does, but she's grown accustomed to reading him - something which is entirely his own fault - and can catch glimpses of the irritation beneath the surface. _What a miserable pair we make at such a pointless party._ She looks out to the other attendees for a minute, then sighs in resignation; in such a mood, she knows that he won't leave her alone until he has what he wants, and in these moments Isabel finds no issue with comparing him to a spoilt child. Not that she would say it, of course - her sense of self-preservation is too strong for that - but she considers telling him sometimes, when she finds him to be particularly vexing. This is not quite one of those times, however, and she nods, accepting the hand held out to her as the previous song draws to a close. 

The required contact does nothing to alleviate her mood, but as it is required they both know she will put up with it for a certain length of time. She allows herself some measure of comfort in being able to visibly show her displeasure, now that she has a cause to do so, and discovers that it lightens his spirits as well; her clear dislike of their situation causes the other dancers discomfort, which Erich seems to enjoy a little more than she does. 

"I still think this is too simple to be considered dancing."

"That must be why you're picking it up so well, then." The minor insult causes her to bristle slightly before they swing around unexpectedly, and she realises that that was what he intended all along. Her indignation at being manipulated for such petty things must show on her face, because he smiles down at her when she glares at him.

"You are easier to dance with when your focus is set elsewhere."

"You-" Isabel cuts herself off, and attempts to collect herself; they are at the literal centre of the celebrations where being out of control will do no good for either of them. "Why did you find it necessary to do this? What could you need distraction from?" 

"Negotiations. One of the Majors is being... _difficult_ about the nature of the commands he's been receiving. His persistence on the issue is causing trouble when negotiating with his counterparts." 

Although his tone is clipped because of the sensitive subject, the grimace he wears is enough for her to figure out exactly how much of an issue the Major in question is being, and she feels some measure of satisfaction; she now has a direct target for her discomfort, one who unlike the General, is disposable to her. She steps away abruptly as the song ends, not wishing to maintain contact for longer than necessary, and to his credit Erich lets her go immediately, watching as she looks around the room.

"Where is the Major?" He indicates to her as they move away from the dancing, but stops her just as she begins to move in that direction, and she thinks that he may have only just realised why she asked.

"Doctor-" For a moment he appears to be considering his choice of words. "Alive. Please."

She nods and after a pause he lets her go again, appearing satisfied that she will honour the request; she knows that he has no real need to be concerned, since most of her more deadly work can't be taken out of her lab in inconspicuous doses. It's concerning how easy it is to drug the man's drink, and Isabel almost finds herself bored because of it - although she can feel Erich watching carefully, which serves as a reminder of how important this may be for him. For his sake, she makes her way back over to him quickly.

"Dance, or we may draw attention." Although he looks surprised, he follows the request as her expression makes it very clear that she still holds no love for dancing.

"What did you give him?

"Is that important? He will be absent for several days while he recovers. Will that be enough time?"

"More than enough, Doctor. I fear you've outdone yourself." 

"I do tend to." She catches glimpses of the Major through the other dancers, able to look on unnoticed as intended; he grows pale and presumably faint in his seat, then in another moment tries to get up before collapsing onto the table. The commotion causes a small crowd to form, and Isabel only just sees him cough up what looks like blood before her view is completely obscured. Her frown must catch Erich's attention because their dancing gradually slows to a halt, and he looks in the direction of the crowd before looking back to her for an explanation.

"His reactions are more severe than I predicted."

"I asked you to leave him alive, and I expected you to follow through with-" 

"I did! He must be taking something else which has triggered the reaction. Tell me how I could have predicted that?" Silence follows her rhetorical question, and watching him she comes to the conclusion that he's quickly starting to view the situation as a mistake.

"At least if he doesn't survive, you will have influence in who the new Major is." He looks at her sharply, as though she's attempting to deflect blame off herself, which she would do, if she felt she was to blame for anything; in this case she's done exactly what he asked, and judging by his expression he knows exactly what her attitude is.

"Your indifference to the situation is frustrating." 

"So is your hypocrisy." She knows that he cares little for the man who stood in his way, only concerned with his own agenda, and the sour look he gives her only confirms it. The crowd around the table is still growing, and if they don't join it soon they will have to leave instead, to avoid appearing suspicious in their indifference. 

"Whether you have a meeting arranged with the other Majors or not, I suggest that you see them now, before this grows worse. They will be preoccupied enough to not question your commands."

"You know exactly how much that will draw suspicion to me."

"Suspicion will turn to you anyway. You are the one with a fight to pick. Why not gain from the situation while you can?" _Prove yourself to be either opportunistic or pragmatic._

He steps away abruptly this time, appearing to consider what she proposes and leaving her free to move to another area of the room. She watches with the appearance of vague interest as he gathers up the other Majors, and they leave to talk about things she doesn't care about. The party is almost entirely focused around the spectacle of the dying man, and Isabel decides to take the opportunity to slip away unnoticed.

She spies blood on her own way out, and decides that this is a lesson; she and the General should not be motivated by anger at the same time again.


	11. Mutiny

Despite not being told explicitly, Isabel carefully stays out of sight when the doors to the bunker are thrown open. If they see her here, the men inside may suspect something is wrong; while that won't alter the plan at all, she doesn't feel they are deserving of any kind of warning. She argued against Erich talking to them at all initially, one of the few finer details of the plan he'd put together that they disagreed on. Of course she understands the point of it, the hope that they can still be persuaded to follow his views, because he still somehow has a moral code when it comes to his contemporaries, one she had mocked the first time he brought up the idea. _How honourable of you, to give the bastards a chance._ He'd looked like he wanted to hit her then, for mocking him as well as the men he'd served with, a reaction she found unsurprising because he would always be a prideful man.

Now however, she reflects that that pride will be the undoing of the High Command, given what she hears from her hiding spot, each of their rejections stretching the last of his goodwill to a breaking point. She hears 'We stand against you' and can picture his expression as he quietly breaks, because it's a definitive answer that he can't deny - they are against him, so they are now the closest enemies he's fighting. The name calling which is directed at her, although hardly new, makes her frown even as her satisfaction at the idea of their deaths grows; if they think her a witch now, she can't imagine what they will think as they die. After a moment she decides that such things are irrelevant, because they will still be dead in accordance with the plan, particularly now they have sealed their own fates. 

She catches a glimpse of Erich as he makes his way back towards the door, watches the anger growing as he's ignored, and thinks that were it not for the knowledge of how much more painful her new gas will be, he would be happy to turn on his heel and shoot them all between the eyes for their insolence. As it is, she can tell his anger is already beginning to morph into the same twisted satisfaction she feels as he passes her and gives a silent instruction.

_One._

She considers disobeying for a moment and throwing more into the bunker, but rejects the idea almost instantly. Too much gas and the men inside will not suffer for very long, and they both agree that the members of the High Command deserve not just painful, but drawn out deaths. Her part is over surprisingly quickly, as she throws the canister and then scrambles out of the room before anyone can react to her presence, and for a moment she can't help but feel the event is an anticlimax. Then her view is obscured at the General tosses something inside, and she catches a glimpse of the mask lying on the floor before the doors slam shut. She bolts them as her confusion grows - _'doesn't he understand how useless the effort will be?'_ \- because he saw what happened the first time she tested the gas, and as he turns to rest on the door she confronts him about it.

"But the mask won't help!"

"They don't know that." 

For a moment he wears a vicious smile, and Isabel realises that of course he knows; this is his own particular revenge against them, giving them a useless hope, and the brilliance of it has her laughing with him. Listening to the struggle inside, she continues to laugh even as he focuses on holding the door, the situation reminding her of the last time she dealt with men who saw her as below them. It had been a faster, quieter affair then, but it still brings her the same satisfaction knowing she has power over them, and she becomes so absorbed in the feeling that it takes her much longer to notice the gas now gradually spilling out of the cracks in the door which Erich is still holding shut. She quickly hands him a capsule which he takes gratefully, likely not wishing to suffer any side effects of her more deadly creation, and she moves past him to the small window on the stairs.

She almost begins laughing again at the sight that greets her. All of the dignified and arrogant men trapped inside fight and claw at each other to escape, to try and reach the mask they believe will protect them, reduced to blind panic in the face of her work. The thick glass begins to crack as the gas reaches it, and she likens the situation to her experiments, which it is; simply larger, with many people confined instead of one. The scientific side of her remains entranced, attempting to take in as much as possible, even as her position grows increasingly dangerous. Then she finds herself pulled away and looks up, angry at the interruption. Erich looks back at her, and for a moment she sees concern in his eyes, not that she cares. Her focus is still primarily on their successful plan, her latest and so far largest experiment, something she assumes he realises quickly.

"Let's go." When that doesn't work, he pushes her in front of him, away from the bunker and towards the outside world. "Time to stage a demonstration to the Kaiser." 

The promise of even greater things, larger experiments, pulls her out of her scientific mindset, and she berates herself for remaining in unsafe conditions for so long, as she heads up and out into open air with him following closely behind, neither of them willing to be nearby when the glass gives and allows her gas to escape its confinement. By that point, she hopes High Command will all be long dead. As she looks back at Erich, she realises any potential survivors will not live for very long.


	12. Spies

In the few instances when Isabel has encountered spies, they have always been relatively covert, and yet these two are making a commotion in the middle of the gala. She recognises the woman storming off and the man being pushed away, the one with an 'interest' in her work, and as the General comes to stand beside her she doesn't need to look up to know that he's also watching them.

"Is he one of yours?" 

"No, I haven't seen him before."

She recalls the outwardly relaxed attitude when he'd approached her, the persistent focus on her work, both of which have been present in the past when real high ranking men have sought the opportunity to steal from her. His concern over the woman appearing had ultimately made her realise that something else was wrong about him, as up until that point she had thought that it was a simple matter of finding out what he wanted specifically, before calling the General over to deal with him.

"I didn't think he was." She feels Erich looking at her, awaiting an elaboration. "Those of high rank hate me, and those of low rank fear me. That's true even in your army, General. Besides, he acted like he wanted something."

"Is that unusual?" 

"Persuasion? It is here. Who was she?"

"I don't know, she approached me. I assumed-"

"You assumed she wanted something, I know." She ignores the look she receives for interrupting him, knowing that by this point it's more a force of habit. "But the dancing, you forced her into that. Why?"

He takes time to consider his answer, and she thinks about how ill-adjusted the woman had appeared to everything, the dancing, the gala itself; as much as she dislikes these functions, even Isabel can admit to being better accustomed to them than this woman had appeared to be. Her attention is pulled back to the present as Erich answers her, and she watches as the man finally leaves the room in pursuit.

"I had a sense that she meant to attack me - she was almost like a soldier. It was the only way I could think of to prevent a scene." Isabel can't suppress a sound of contempt at his reason, and is surprised that she doesn't receive another look because of it. "You think differently?"

Although his tone is a challenge she would gladly rise to, she finds herself being forced to hold off as they are called out of the room, simply nodding while they are taken to the viewing area. When they are left alone she stands just inside the doorway, preferring to avoid the chill in the air for as long as possible while he looks around briefly, the greatcoat more imposing than his medals ever could be.

"Do you want to hear what I think?" 

"I am always curious to know your opinion, Doctor." Even when he briefly faces her, she can't tell if he intends to be sincere or not, which would irritate her more if she hadn't grown so used to it by now.

"I think it was a defensive gesture, and that you were curious about her. You have a habit of finding unusual... people."

"Do I? How did you come to that conclusion?" She knows that he likely finds her annoyance amusing, and he must be able to feel her glare at the back of his head because after a moment he relents. "Perhaps you are right. We did have an unusual discussion."

"What about?"

"We talked about the gods-" Isabel rolls her eyes and moves slightly further into the doorway, not wishing to be any active part of his explanation; while she finds most of his interests to be tolerable at worst, deities are one of the few topics of discussion consistently forbidden in her workspace. She has no time for any higher power, and even if she did it would most likely have forsaken her by this point. To his credit, Erich takes a shorter amount of time than usual to notice her complete lack of interest.

"Am I boring you, Doctor?"

"Yes."

Any further retort she has is cut off by the arrival of the first members of the viewing party, and she moves outside to avoid them, finding herself joined by the General a few moments later. She occupies the time he takes to greet everybody by thinking over the fact that spies were able to invade the gala, and finds that the more she considers it, the more worrying it is. If they are able to do something like this, regardless of how poor an attempt it is, a more sophisticated attempt could be launched at the airbase. Once again, her concern is quickly noticed - perhaps because this should be a moment of victory for her - and as the last of the party enters, he takes her to one side.

"I hope your mood isn't the result of something being wrong with the weapon." Looking up, she notes that for the first time in the evening, he appears to be on edge, and watches him relax quickly as she shakes her head.

"It- the spies, the fact that they were here at all, is worrying. What if something goes wrong later because of a similar attempt?" She frowns at him when he smiles at her worries, but this time he refuses to relent.

"Are you really so concerned? The newest weapon is about to be demonstrated, and the Kaiser, once he sees it, will not sign the armistice. The plan will go ahead, and we will have victory in a matter of days. Those spies couldn't do anything to stop us - if the wind is right, they may not be doing anything at all." 

Despite his amusement, the words are meant to be soothing, and she mirrors his smile after a moment, finding the same twisted amusement in the final image, which is most likely exactly what he intended; now of all times, she can't appear to be in bad spirits. When the demonstration begins, she takes a seat set out for a dead man and watches as her efforts come to fruition once more.


	13. Fire

When her paranoia proves to be correct, Isabel hates it. Events weren't meant to go like this, she was promised success, and a victory that would have been indisputable. Instead, she finds herself having to burn all of the work she's rebuilt, something which she had hoped to never do; even though she remembers the majority of it, destroying the physical copies goes against her instinct. She wants to keep, wants to preserve, despite it being detrimental because without proof all of the effort she put in to the work may as well not exist at all. People are coming as she takes a final look at the fire she's set, and she takes some satisfaction even now, knowing that they will suffer when the fire reaches the shelved chemicals nearby.

Some of the soldiers that remain still follow her orders, a fact she's surprised to learn - although it may be due to their desire to escape alive - and she quickly finds one to drive her away from the fiery wreck that the airbase is becoming. She's unprepared when the car is pulled back the way it came, and by the time the unknown force wrenches her from inside it she already feels as though several ribs have been fractured. When she hits the ground, the world disappears and for a single moment she's granted relief; then she opens her eyes to Erich. It's impossible, she knows it's impossible because nothing survived the explosion, he has to be dead.

But for a moment, she hopes. 

He seems immaculate, unblemished in comparison to the hell surrounding them, a tall and commanding presence looking down on her, with a face that's twisted into a sneer. Isabel knows that look, hates that look, and never imagined that she would see it in his eyes. She hates him then as well, more than she ever has before, more than anything else she can remember in that moment, because he was supposed to understand.

_How dare you look at me like that._  
_You gave me hope._  
_How dare you leave me here alone._

She snarls at the betrayal and spits at him, unafraid of the consequences, then he backhands her and it's hard and unflinching - ripping, she realises, as her mask comes away from her face. The gasps of pain bring reality into focus, and part of her catalogues the theoretical reasons behind her hallucination - _mild oxygen deprivation, possibly caused by fractured ribs, pre-existing conditions and smoke inhalation_ \- while the rest of her mind attempts to take in the new sight before her, one she knows to be equally impossible,and she thinks it may be just another hallucination. But she knows the heat of the fire surrounding her is real, and the threat of the metal hanging above her head feels the same way, all held up by this one entity, this Death. She refuses to think of it as anything but that, because no human could do such a thing, and Isabel, unlike Erich, holds no faith in gods or inhuman monsters.

Death looks down at her with the same hatred she's felt towards man for most of her life, and she allows herself to be scared, to be instinctively terrified by the threat; but she finds she isn't fearful of the prospect of her own death which the hatred suggests. She's had a long time to come to terms with that inevitability. Her conscious fear comes from living in a world that's unrelenting and uncaring, now that she knows what it's like to have someone at her side, but still she cowers by instinct to try to create a smaller target. The shift in atmosphere which occurs passes by unnoticed until she looks up again and meets a stare. She recognises the pity in it - and would hold more contempt for if she weren't about to die - but she notices a realisation of some kind as well, replacing the hatred, which is unexpected because, after all she's done, she freely admits that she should be hated - after all, even hatred is a form of recognition. Instead, she now finds herself allowed to live, passed over in favour of something else, a presence she hasn't seen but recognises as dangerous, even more so than Death. She doesn't have time to consider the familiarity of it.

Isabel runs. The last time she ran so hard was before the war, when she was attempting to avoid becoming involved altogether. Now she runs from her involvement, for her own life since the Germans have no reason to leave her alive now that Erich is dead, leaving her surrounded by his enemies as well as her own. Eventually she stops to avoid collapsing in an open area, knowing she shouldn't be resting where she can still see the smoke from the airbase, but exhausted in a way that she hasn't been for nearly four years - it's the exhaustion of running from a threat, she realises, just before she slips into unconsciousness, curled near the base of a tree. 

When she wakes she's covered in dew, and still feels the bone-deep tiredness that she did last night. Even though it recedes slightly the longer she's awake, it's still a considerable effort for her to begin moving again, despite knowing that her life may well depend upon it. She continues regardless, forcing herself not to think about how she's alone. If she survived it before, she will survive it now.


	14. Poppies

The fields she wanders through should be cordoned off for the safety of everyone, but Isabel finds she can move through them as freely as she wishes to, perfectly at risk of stepping on an unexploded shell or land mine and being obliterated entirely. She might have taken it more personally if she had been recognised before she entered, but now without her mask, amidst the final negotiations of the armistice, and resulting German hostility she's managed to once again become just another nameless war victim. The ground is uneven at her feet, rising and dipping suddenly into craters where conflict has reshaped the landscape, as covered in red now as she imagines it would have been before. But the poppies that grow here are more vibrant than anything on the Front could have been, aside from the persistent flowers which she's heard grew there even then. 

She inevitably crushes some underfoot as she continues on an undefined path, wondering if there are enough flowers here for every man that died for his country, and if there are, whether significance can be drawn from her destroying them. She's unsure if she could create anything to kill them off the top of her head; if they survived the barrage of no man's land, and quite possibly some of her earlier inventions then they may be an exception. Pausing, Isabel quickly plucks a flower from its stalk, turning it to take in the wide, bright petals. Her fist clenches, and just as quickly the poppy is gone, resistant to her work perhaps, but not to herself.

Suddenly she feels watched, and for a few moments it feels achingly familiar. She opens her hand to let the crushed flower fall to the ground, the only movement she's willing to make. Isabel has no wish to die unless she must, which given her scientific abilities may be a day that never naturally comes. But if she is to die, if she must, then she prefers not to face it; cowardly perhaps, but she never claimed to be brave, or good in any sense. Death, for lack of any name she knows, comes to stand beside her wearing unassuming clothes and a pensive expression, although when she looks down Isabel can see the armoured boots beneath the facade and has little doubt that weapons accompany them. The pause between them is due, she thinks, to the fact that Death doesn't know what to say to her. An amusing concept, if she weren't preoccupied with her situation.

"You being here of all places - you surprise me." The statement is unassuming, and Isabel reflects that Death sounds more human than she does. Her silence stretches on, only to be broken by an elaboration she didn't ask for.

"This place is one of mourning, as well as danger. I didn't think you would mourn for the victims of this war, particularly those you considered your enemies."

"I don't mourn for anyone," she knows that it's a lie, but her answer is also technically true; she doesn't mourn for anyone who fell here, "and they weren't my enemies. My loyalty has always been to the work I've done, not those I've done it for." 

"But - why would you hold such value in it, when it's a cause for so much death? How do you stand loyalty, knowing what your actions cost?" Death looks to her, frowning, and she looks out across the seemingly endless red field to avoid the accusing stare, wondering if the flowers outnumber her victims.

"I know how many deaths are tied to my work, but I don't regret a single one, because it allowed me to progress in understanding what I could create. The cost of their lives is outweighed by the gains in my understanding."

"To see your work as worth more than a human life is wrong, selfish in the worst ways imaginable."

"Selfishness, is what humanity embodies at all times," Isabel chooses to look over and meet the gaze for a moment, surprised to see such an open and pained face, "but you understand that now, I think. Everyone is selfish, even your spy."

Her words are intended to hurt, built upon knowledge she gained after the events at the airbase; how a single man had brought everything she worked for down around her, and how much whatever now stood beside her had cared about him. The ploy is successful, and she can feel tension building in the atmosphere around them, wondering with morbid fascination if she's just prompted her own demise. 

"Your work has taken countless lives, destroyed countless families. Steve made sure that you couldn't do any more harm."

"He took everything I had with him, all of my work and achievements. Between the two of you, you destroyed nearly everything," she has no issue with such an admittance; after all, she has been forced to come to terms with it herself many times since the events took place, "but you didn't prevent me from doing more damage."

"What could have survived? Everything was destroyed in the battle. What could you have to justify the cost of your actions now, and all of the deaths you caused before?" 

The naïveté of her unwelcome guest has clearly not dissipated as entirely as she would have expected, given both the war and its aftermath. Anger and bitterness begins to rise within her at the knowledge, and she realises in that moment that she will live to see it die, crushed like the poppies by her person rather than by her work. Isabel looks out at the fields again without remorse for her previous actions, or for her new undertaking, before looking into the face of Death herself.

" _I_ survived."


	15. Epilogue

The train she takes is packed with people, giving it the appearance of life and all its filthiness, despite everything from the carriages to the sleepers on the track being brand new, but Isabel goes mostly unnoticed because of the bustle. She travels further than most of the rest of the passengers, eventually commandeering an empty compartment for herself until she reaches her destination, thankful enough to have not been disturbed considering the newly-enforced borders her route has had to cross. It's twilight when she leaves the station, and by the time she's hitchhiked, and then walked the final stretch to where she wants to be, it's almost pitch black. Luckily the streets are lit, if unfamiliar in places - she quickly realises that there must have been rebuilding, this village changing with time just like everywhere else - and she wanders around until she finds a place to stay just off the square. 

The woman who owns the building is quick to take pity on her after seeing her face, and for once Isabel is willing to accept pity if it means she can get what she wants. She's given board for a lowered price which was low to begin with, and shown up to a too-small room which she doesn't take the time to look around too much before accepting - it's furnished sparsely with a bed, a chair and a desk, but it will do. She's tired from more than just her journey, not that she would admit it to herself. The woman disappears, and she opens the window to get some air, to take in the view. It's a familiar one, and she smiles at the almost bizarre twist of fate; of course at the end of it all, she should be exactly where they first began. The wind is bitterly cold so high up, but she leans into it anyway, preferring it over the close walls, and pretends that it's wiping her mind clean of everything that's happened.

_"You look unwell."_

His presence has been growing slowly since the armistice, and she imagines him to be seated in the chair, if his voice is to be believed, which she knows it isn't. There's no temper there, he's too quiet, but she won't turn around and break the illusion. Not yet. She's unsure what she would find if she did.

"Have you ever known me to look otherwise?" Her rhetorical question is answered by an amused sound, and her grip on the railing tightens, despite having had this conversation before. She feels him staring and continues to look down into the square at where she thinks he might have been standing the first time.

_"No, but we are only as good as our limits."_ It's her turn suddenly, to be amused, as she hears one of her own beliefs repeated back to her. _"You're tired, Isabel. You need to rest now."_

"No... No, I can't. I have a different war to-"

_"A different war to fight?"_ He sounds like he's waiting for the correct answer, as though she should know better, and on further reflection she concedes that he may be right. As she looks on over the rebuilt square, she fights with herself to stay where she is, because the idea of giving in is so very tempting. But to survive, she needs to have some resolve in a world where there's nobody left to understand.

_If only you had a little faith._

"A different war to win."


End file.
